


In Another Life

by nhasablog



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Tickling, mentions of elio's father being sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: In another life, Elio and Oliver grow old together. This is a glance at their early lives.





	In Another Life

In another life, Elio and Oliver ended up together for eternity. They left Italy for the States, and Oliver found employment in the city Elio ended up studying in, getting a BA, and eventually his MA. They were  _that_ couple, albeit secretly. The intellectual pair that could argue all night over the contents of Hippolytus, whether Heraclitus had any idea of what he was saying, and if literature really was the key to the soul. But once the gathering was over and they were stumbling drunkenly over flat stone pavers that used to be vibrant but had now been bleaked to fit the whitewashed buildings, they would go home to their shared apartment and shed their academic skin and just be Elio and Oliver.

These sides of them were a privilege to witness.

“Your mom has called,” Oliver said. “Want me to play the voicemail?”

Elio stuck his head back into the hallway. “Leave it. It’s early morning there and whatever she has to say will probably urge me to call her back immediately. Let’s just… let’s just pretend as if everything is fine, just for tonight.”

Elio’s father was getting worse and worse, and it was an ever present dark cloud in their lives. Oliver had quickly realized that Elio prefered to pretend as if it wasn’t happening. He only played along occasionally, but that night wasn’t a night for potential sorrows. Too much alcohol in their veins.

They moved on through the rooms, shedding clothes and grabbing glasses, Oliver making sure they were filling them with merely water. A bowl of forgotten grapes was grabbed, and then they were in their bedroom in only their underwear, Elio chugging his water like a dying man, while Oliver popped a few grapes into his mouth and chewed, swallowing the seeds and all.

“What’d you think of the party?” Elio asked, setting his now empty glass on the nightstand.

Oliver sat down on the bed and placed the bowl in the middle. “It was barely a party.”

Elio rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Mr Party Animal. They can’t all be like the ones in Italy.”

Oliver barked out a laugh. “Oh god, don’t remind me.”

“No, no, wait, I’m trying to remember. You were dancing with Chiara to make me jealous, was it?”

Oliver reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling him down onto the bed. “You’ll never let me live that down.”

“Never.” Elio was grinning, adjusting his position so that he was sitting cross legged. “And to think that all you had to do was ask me.”

“You weren’t making it easy, you know.”

“You clearly knew I liked you.”

“But you were acting as if it was the biggest offense you’d ever witnessed.”

“Well, at that point, it was.”

Oliver shook his head. “Must we talk about the past?”

“We’re always talking about the past, only this time it’s our own we’re discussing.” Elio grabbed a grape, chewing slowly before saying, “I sometimes wish someone would’ve written it down. Someone more reliable than my younger self, I mean. I don’t think I remember everything as clearly. It’s not the Decameron, you know?”

Oliver hummed. “Do you remember our trip to Rome?”

“Obviously.”

“The bookstore? The poet?”

“Those were big things, Oliver. I’m talking about the details. I want to remember exactly how silly you looked when you were dancing.”

“Okay, you know what?” Oliver gave his thigh a squeeze, making Elio recoil with a laugh. “I remember exactly how ticklish you were and still are, so one more word about my dancing and I’ll remind you of the night I discovered your sensitivity.”

Elio’s smile had turned nervous, but who was he to back down from a fight? “I remember you twisting like a-”

“That’s it.”

It was a miracle that Oliver managed to grab the bowl and put it away quickly enough to still pin Elio without him even reacting. The tale played out differently once those fingers curled over sensitive spots, of course, and laughter was quickly filling the room, mingling with their bodies and souls. Elio’s bubbly giggles as Oliver tortured his ticklish skin.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence, though if any of their colleagues would ever witness it they were certain they would pass out from shock. To them it would be alien. To Elio and Oliver it was a weekday.

“Dohohon’t!” Elio was pleading, not meaning it in the slightest. He almost kneed Oliver in the groin, which of course earned both his knees a good squeeze, which developed to fingers scribbling over the backs of them, Oliver having managed to roll him over. Elio truly became entirely helpless while under the mercy of those fingers, and Oliver could do whatever he wanted as soon as he could duck Elio’s flailing limbs. It didn’t matter that Elio was nearing thirty. It probably would never change.

Neither of them wanted it to change, especially Oliver. The joys he found in reducing his partner to this - to a giggly mess with crinkly eyes and laughter lines - was beyond any other pleasure. Or well, almost.

“I’m too old for thihihis!” Elio cried anyway, as if they wouldn’t be doing this when they were 80 (maybe slightly more carefully).

“You’re not,” Oliver replied, his grin a permanent feature. “If you were too old for it you’d stop being ticklish.”

“That’s not how this works!”

“Says you.” Oliver turned him over and moved upward to nuzzle his face into Elio’s neck, relishing in the way he giggled. “I can’t even show affection without you laughing.”

“Shut up!”

“Rude.” Oliver went for his belly.

“Ah, wait, no!”

Maybe life wasn’t as carefree as they would want it to. Maybe it was filled with people whispering about how they lived together and had never talked about any girlfriends. Maybe it was filled with voicemails from suffering mothers, students who didn’t care, people threatening to beat them up if they ever touch in public. Maybe it was filled with that, but it was also filled with memories, laughter, books and love. And maybe that was enough, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


End file.
